


Blue water, blue scales

by rainofgrenades



Series: Voltron Rants [10]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Ending, Inaccuracies, Legends, M/M, Merman Lance, Sailor AU, Sea Monsters, i'm actually a bit sorry for ths but also too tired to care, shance, ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 23:26:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainofgrenades/pseuds/rainofgrenades
Summary: When the tired aching of his muscles declared it was late enough, right when he was about to turn his back to the ocean, the shine glowed between the growing dark waters, and he couldn’t help but lean over for the millionth time that day.Nothing.It must have been the rum guiding his brain into seeing what he craved to see.Or the light blue tail that was moving into plain eyesight could be real. Real and beautiful.





	Blue water, blue scales

**T** he sea was so calm, so peaceful and blue, fishes swimming under the waves and water so clear Shiro could see them from the deck of the Black Lion.  
  
The big, robust ship cut across the ocean like a relaxed shark, sea creatures by its black wood sides and humans working on its polished back, full sail to catch the favorable wind leading it to its destination:   
the shiny port city of Altea, with its high towers glowing in gold and white, tips whirling on themselves and aiming to the sky. The city that was waiting for them and would welcome every sailor with a warm room and a good dinner.  
  
Shiro could not wait to land.  
  
It was not as if the trip had not been pleasant but, after a month, he admitted he was getting nostalgic of the dry land. He loved the ocean, he always felt like he was born to sail and tie ropes and catch winds and travel, he was one of the best sailors his captain ever hired, but the solid ground under his feet always felt good.  
  
And so did a good shower or a walk through streets instead of narrow dark walls, without the ocean pressing around the ship and somehow around his brain.  
  
He needed to wait for another week if wind favored them for at least half of the remaining time; they had been lucky so far, but the ocean had always been famous for its temperamental changes.  
  
Shiro sailed long enough to know that it was going to be a good day, so he attended to his duties with no rush at all, tying knots meant to be untied later, cleaning nets and anchors for the next use and spending his little free time looking down at the white crests the ship created cutting through the water.  
  
Every crest originated from the blue and to the blue returned, leaving only little wrinkles far behind the Black Lion, and Shiro, as usual, got lost in the view.  
  
Sharks often swam near the black wood before returning to the deep water, sometimes dolphins or other big fishes got into eyesight, even whales, but the sailor never saw something quite like what showed that afternoon.  
  
The scales shining underwater, right between the white crests at the back of the ship, were not those of a known fish. They were so shiny Shiro thought about painted glass, but the glass was moving, emerging briefly and displaying blue dorsal fins, and the sailor hoped the creature would raise its face to the warm afternoon sun.  
  
A new species of tuna? No way, those fishes swam northern, in colder waters. Those reflections looked just like the ornamental kinds, light refracting in every direction, even on the wood of the Lion.  
  
Shiro was amazed, unable to look anywhere but at the wonderful view, until the creature disappeared.   
  
With a sigh, he returned to his work, brain still lingering on the shiny scales he was sure he didn’t imagined.  
  
Maybe it was one of those blessed days in which sailors saw incredible sea monsters no one would ever see again and then found something valuable. Legends talked about treasures, old sailors told stories about luck and oceans, and Shiro, as a child, wondered on those captains and men, fighting or being visited by mighty creatures, obtaining more gold than a man would ever spend in their life.  
  
Actually, Shiro was not drawn by gold, but by adventure. He would give up on every treasure only to be able to see the Kraken, or the Serpents of the Fire Sea, or the Star of the South, to see those old monsters dwelling in the dark deep waters, waiting for men and their boats to remind them who ruled over the oceans.

 

****

 

  
The day nearly ran to its end, the sunset surprising the crew and the captain himself, which, with one of his loud, typical shouts, sent half of his men to the dinner. The split was necessary, Altea was getting close and the ship always needed maintenance, and it was not a big deal considered how fast the sailors usually ate their evening ration of food, hungry from the working day.  
  
Shiro walked to the lower deck while literally shoving shipmates aside, everyone insulting everyone and laughing, someone more tired than the others, in the moment when no rank mattered.  
The sailors who didn’t have to attend the first two night shifts could get a bit drunk too, and Shiro made sure his glass was always properly full of rum while shoving bread and meat down his throat. The last seaport the Black Lion stopped at permitted a good restock of food, so no one wanted to waste it now that it was fresh, and the meal ended as fast as the day.  
  
Shiro got back to the open air once more, mug in hand and alcohol warming his guts while he leaned on the edge of the wood, eyes lost on the water crests now glowing with the last orange and red lights before the incoming night.  
  
He found himself hoping to see that mysterious tail appearing again behind the Lion, gracefully challenging the majestic ship, but, with a sour laugh, he raised the half empty glass to the waves and the legends, drinking what was left in it before convincing his legs to walk to his deserved sleep.  
  
When the tired aching of his muscles declared it was late enough, right when he was about to turn his back to the ocean, the shine glowed between the growing dark waters, and he couldn’t help but lean over for the millionth time that day.  
  
Nothing.  
  
It must have been the rum guiding his brain into seeing what he craved to see.  
  
Or the light blue tail that was moving into plain eyesight could be real. Real and beautiful.  
  
A confused and amazed sound left the sailor mouth before an human-like head appeared from the water, the broad, strong tail returning under it with a smooth movement.  
  
Shiro could swear that was a boy. A boy smiling to him from the open, vast ocean, right beside his damn big ship, swimming with a fish tail.  
  
The boy called his name, soft lips moving in what seemed the most natural way. How could he know from that far the way they parted and closed didn’t seem a problem to him.  
  
“Shiro”  
  
The sailor did not care about how he wasn’t supposed to hear that word, how the distance and the wind should have carried it away. He bathed in its sweet taste, in the way the syllables slid down his back and caressed his cheek.  
  
“Shiro”  
  
The name, his own name reached his ears again, just as if the fishboy was whispering them from an inch far, and the man shut his eyes.  
  
He was going insane.  
  
“Shiro, come to me”  
  
He drank too much.  
  
“Please, Shiro”  
  
His gaze darted down, to the wet skin shining in the dying light, to the slender but firm muscles bending and moving with every thrust forward, a feeling warmer than the rum spreading in his limbs.  
  
_Lance_ called. Lance asked. Lance pleaded.  
  
He didn’t need to understand how he knew that name.  
  
He needed to go.  
  
To touch that chest, to caress those scales, to kiss those lips.  
  
Lance needed him just like he needed Lance.  
  
Shiro did not care if someone was watching him, Shiro just jumped down the deck with a careless move, fearless of the impact with the dark water.  
  
Lance was there, there was where he had to be too.  
  
His legs screamed in pain when they collided with the ocean and he sank deep before trying to get back to the surface, arms working on their own while his eyes were looking for the shining scales. For the perfect smile.  
  
“Shiro”  
  
Again, Lance voice sounded in his ears as if the two of them were laying side by side on a messed up bed, and the air his lungs breathed in when he re-emerged wasn’t important. Lance was important. Where was Lance?  
  
Shiro’s frantic search stopped when a pair of arms closed on his waist, the owner sliding from behind his back to face him, his powerful, long tail keeping both of them afloat.  
  
“I’m here” The sailor’s words and hands wandered on the creature sides, down to feel the rough scales and up on the wet, cold skin, to the weird, webbed ears and the human hair.  
“I love you”  
  
The smile Lance showed him at those words was decorated by pointy, sharp teeth.  
  
He was beautiful.  
  
Shiro truly loved him.  
  
Shiro always loved him.  
  
“I know”  
  
Lance’s lips were soft as Shiro expected. His tongue was rough, his multiple canines cut. Lance’s long nails carted through the white hair falling on his face, webbed fingers slowly pressing downwards until they reached the aroused manhood between the sailor’s legs.  
  
It was so clear how Shiro needed him.  
  
The moan that escaped Shiro’s mouth at the growing attention from the creature would have been shameful, but the Black Lion was far by now, lights turned on on the deck looking for the missing sailor.  
  
But Lance was with him. He was with Lance. Nothing else mattered.  
  
Not even the way the beautiful blue tail stopped moving under Shiro’s digits, their bodies slowly sinking into the sea.  
  
It didn’t matter, because Lance’s lips were taking care of his, scales embracing him and a deep, loving voice whispering in his ears.  
  
It didn’t matter the way water filled his nose, the way his limbs started to ache and his brain to scream, because Lance whispered again, holding him tight while a cold sleep took over everything.  
  
It didn’t matter, because Lance was his sea monster, his legendary creature, and what was death when it was with Lance?  
  
Beautiful.  
  
A beautiful, sweet death, even as the fishboy fangs tore his throat open.  
  
“You’re mine now, Takashi”

**Author's Note:**

> Something I got inspired to write seeing all those merman Lance pics. Something that, of course, didn't turn out as good as I wanted and even too long...


End file.
